The Good Intending Evildoer

It is the most impossible

of earthly choices -

the final blow that tips one over

to the deepest dark of the  abyss.

The only debts alas

we aren’t supposed to pay back

is to go back

and to repay our sins into the past.

The past - the place where

only shadows now reside 

and where all the roads are always

paved with our good intents.

And even if we could

(somehow) go back -  

the meager past is obdurate;

a turtle’s shell protecting gentle-fleshed, unhampered future.  

So, I go back –

where only I am now allowed –

into my dreams of the another life –

the past.

An then I meet – again,

and then again,

and then again –  

the same – the omnipresent Stranger.

And then again as in a loop –

I hear these illustrious words -

“…there’s always price to pay

for what we want the most”

Then pushes me once more,

with smile. And then gain I’m flaying

down  into the abyss. Until tomorrow.

Pompeii

The crimson lava’s kissing

crimson, heavy burning sky;

A violent smoke is dancing

where their burning lips are harshly touching.

The earth is trembling,

Vesuvius erupting,

the world entire – burnt,

exploding and in pain.

With bodies limp,

inhaling fire -

survivors few - unable now

to even scream.

The end now near,

as God decided,

all sinners,

saints - about to die.

One final blow –

the city’s under,

a blanket’s moving –

one motley lava, fire, smoke.

Above it all

sad, lonely face is watching;

God’s tear suddenly

appears in His eye.

“Their final destination

is well worthy.”  “Perpetual reminder

of My greatness…and My wrath”

The Old Man And The Sea (To M.I.D.)

The old man’s sitting

in an ancient chair,

looking in the sea

that never rests.

His eyes are pale

and hardly moving,

they’ve seen some glory days, 

calamities in an excess.

A cup of steaming tea

to keep his fingers heated,

into mutilated of arthritis

shaky hands.

The sea is talking to him,

telling him primordial stories,

the old man learned as a boy

the language of the sea.

“Your time has come

my friend”,

with gentle murmur

the sea’s conversing with the man.

“In the beginning all was sea you know,”

it tells him,

“and in the end all things

a sea will be once more”.

The old man’s smiling,

knowingly, he is ready,

another day - a gift,

another conversation with the sea.

He knows -

the sea had turned into fish,

the fish became a man,

the man will turn into a sea

and will complete another cycle 

Unfortunately

I wish I could go back

in time and simply say “ I'm sorry” –

undo the things

regrettably I've done.

Not the big or the important ones –

that’d be unholy,

the simple ones

that would have changed entire worlds.  

But I can not

and that’s so cruel and so unfair

that we could not go back in time,

undo mistakes.

As the Creator such desired –

for us to always look

inside our past

but never to go back…

Castle

Whenever sadden,

broken hearted,

when tears welling

up my eyes;

My spirit broken,

the days are empty

no single ray

of light in sight;

When fate is lost,

I see no end,

nor see beginning,

not even point on road of life;

When I hear not

a clear message,

from down below

nor up above;

Then every moment

is rolling, falling…

a grain of sand

against the sun.

I turn my eyes

to find inside me

the castle build

of memories and love;

With seven keys

I open slowly

the heavy doors

to rooms with light.

Behind these doors

I keep my treasures –

our first date kiss

first baby’s cry…

A purple rose,

a white, high tower,

your smiling eyes,

grain purest love.

House Of Darkness

Disquieting,

sobbing, displeasing

the rain is outside in the park,

in the dark.

And distantly,

in the farthest of corners,

the weeping, light voice of piano

is calling for me to come back.  

Each time lightning

would puncture the low sky, 

the house’s shades are back,

thunder comes, detonates.

Reliving the past,

I find no future,

rain turns into sleet

after all.

Equilibrium

The mildest wind –

a motley joker –

caresses gently willow trees.

He’s flirting,

gently pooling,

the yellow – green

of their shirts.

As it is summer - 

careless, glamour,

embracing motion,

light and life.

A beetle bug

is slowly climbing

atop the tallest

willow tree.

The playful wind

is flying, singing,  

and challenging the bug

to race with him.

The little bug

is unimpressed

as it is wise

beyond its size.

To race with winds

is almost pointless –

as the universe, the bug,

the tree and winds are one.

A Girl’s Eyes

It is a faint, high - pitched buzzing

coming from above our heads.

Walking slowly hand in hand

in the heavy August afternoon,

we share visions

of our daughter – soon to come.

We both paint,

creating lovely portrait,

and adding colors

to our deepest and pristine love.

Her face so pretty – marvel,

with peachy cheeks

and little dimples –

the babies have to show the world.

Her little hands,

the little fingers

we both will kiss

and one by one.

Her funny feet –

like little muffins,

will move a lot

when giggle’s born.

With open hands

we grab the colors from

enormous pallet

of sunny, perfect, endless day.

We hear distant, sudden

ugly thunder,

announcing coming

summer storm.

We both grab quickly

from the ocean

the deepest blue

that can exist.

And finally now we can see her -

an amazing little lady –

the one we’ve painted

out of our deepest love.

The Doors

I fell asleep after a day

of parable existence, of

paragon and paradoxic life.

I fell off my thoughts and of my body –

my soul wafting and awake,

into a beautiful

and virtuous world.

My internal eye, emancipated,

was seeing no boundaries,

no impurities of the flash,

no empty space, no time constraints.

The only two adulterations

of the harmonious

and universal power of absorption

were the two opposing doors.

One erected in the West

with its perfect antipode -

presiding in the East.

Sitting on a silver platter

my entire outer ego was exposed –

and then enlightened

by the seven suns.

My left and digital representation

connubial to the door into the West

with my right – numerical depiction

aligned with the door presiding in the East.

With inner power

I communed sharply

for both doors

to open and with a batter  sound they did.

Behind the door into the West

I saw an embryonic life,pulsating, 

and ready to ascend

into the present from the hope.

Behind the door into the East

I saw the old and fading

the present –

ready to descend into the oblivion’s abyss.  

The Awakening

Open your mind!

Let the cosmos

to engulf you.

Open your mind!

Let your spirit

be at large.

Open your mind!

Do entangle

your passions.

Open your mind!

Let enticement

guide your day.

Open your mind!

Articulate your

freedom to create.

Open your mind!

Envelope the moon

with your dreams.

Open your mind!

Allow enormity

to come to life.

Open your mind!

Elevate the

visions of the future.

Open your mind!

Breathing deeper –

feeling free.

Open your mind!

Illuminate your life! 

The Painting

I wish to paint magnificent,

convoluted image

of billions of stars inside 

the canopy of rampant sky.

So I could marvel

their light, reflected, gleaming

in ancient town 

where little chapel white still stands.

Inside it I have cried

when you were missing -

my tears heavy, burning 

welled up.

I have no canvas,

nor I have palette.

My brush so rough

is made of wounded words.

Inside the clear

nightly sky

I'm  gently reaching,  

catching stardust with my bare hand.

And then I’m mixing it

with breeze that murmurs, 

and gently is caressing

shy, tall grass.

I use my mind 

to paint enchantments

onto the wings 

of little butterfly.

Tomorrow, 

early in the evening,

my painting 

can be seen by anyone.

But only those will see it 

who are looking, 

for a little magic 

on the gentle moon.

Love and Other Natural Disasters

How one could recognize 

the true, magnificent, one only love, 

that we experience once

only in our life time?

Is such love mighty like the wind 

that gushes trough crowns 

of thousand years old, majestic oaks

to steal their leaves with greedy hands?  

Is it like tsunami, 

born into the violet ocean's belly, 

that crushes with uneven wrath 

with fists of greasy waters on a little yellow island?

Is it the lion's roar 

or is it in the falcons eyes 

that searches for a game to feed 

the hunger of its youth?

Or is it where we would never search it,

somewhere buried inside us, 

deep between the reason of the mind 

and the sub-rational of our weary hearths? 

Is the true love a pearl, 
embellishing a woman's neck 
or could we find it in the smile of 
the mysterious Gioconda?

Or is it a memento -
a spark of light, divine, 
when little baby smiles at butterflies 
that graciously are dancing in the wind...?

Love Is...

Love is not easy. 
Piece of cake? Hardly so. 
Love is tough 
and hard to swallow,


It is a pain, 
distant glory,
elusive and so far 
out of reach.


Yet love is like small, 
playful robin,
that sometimes would 
land on your palm and will sing.


There, somewhere,
there's secret power,
animating our lives 
during flight.


Love is enormous 
and also so simple - 
simply one look 
in your beautiful eyes.

Wings

I plan to be free
and to fly. 
Up in the sky 
where the moon's gently crying.


I want 
to be able 
to touch with my hands
little star.


I drew 
little picture
of wings that I made 
out of brass.


I crafted 
the pair
of wings
in my mind.


I went 
to the hill.
There I could see
all the sky and the stars.


I have attached then
those wings 
to my back 
with some nails.


I spread then
my wings
and attempted 
to fly.


And I flew 
for a moment...
adoring 
the bright little star in the sky.






  

Leap Of Fate

Following God
in his steps
He demanded  
to follow Him 
in the deepest of caves that exist.


Using no light
of my knowledge,
and transgressions committed  
I told Him "I can't".


"I see only darkness
in front and behind me,
I will fall on my face 
and I will break my neck"


"Close your eyes, 
listen to Me
and just follow" 
He simply told me 
and I did take a step.


And now I'm still  slowly  
and painfully falling
into the darkest 
and deepest abyss.

Come!

Come!
To my dreams 
and destroy them 
and laugh at me.


Torture!
My soul and my body 
- deservingly.


Tell me!
A story so horrible.


Punish!
My days 
and my nights 
and my sanity.


Leave me!
Not ever 
and follow me always... 
eternally. 


Provoke me!
And challenge my past 
and my memories.


Blame me!
You have 
every right to it.


Come to me!
Make me regret 
all my life  
even death.


Come to me!

My child’s eyes

Looking in your eyes

I’m fervently spiraling

down the deep

of your soul.

Melting down

the granite mountain –

my life that was

with violet fire of your sight.

One gentle smile

and I’m your servant,

until the end to serve the light.

I am the willow

that gives you shadow

when days are hot,

the sun is high.

I am the song

of gliding falcon

that’s watching over

your play.

Inside the bright

and motley rainbow,

you’re walking high

you always smile.

Tonight again

in your dreamscapes

I’ll come again

to bring you stars.

So we could both

weak up together

and walk throughout

the rainbow’s arch.  

Hope Swings

I’m waking up.

Another morning…

The rain is groping

gloomy threes.

Another day

is slowly crawling

upon the monochrome,

deserted streets. 

Just out of dark,

depressing dreamscape –

how much of suffer

is still ahead?

Then burst of life

from sudden laughter 

is pumping back

inside of me.

My daughter’s up,

the sin is rising,

outside a rainbow’s

glowing high.

The world is back –

now all in order.

”Hey daddy! Come! Today is

gonna be amazing day!”

A Good Luck Spell (For D.)

Wondering magic -

please come now to me.

In this life the good luck

I need now for me.

All heaven’s angles

I want now with me.

The dreams I am having -

they’ll grant them to me. 

United earth, fire

and water and wind -

give the desire

my heart wants for me.

Guardians of the land,

of the sun and the sea -

keep away harm

from my loved ones and me.

P.S.

Thank you for saving me! 

06/24/2012

Shadow (For I.)

When sad,

alone and broken hearted,

I walk into another dream.

The same old town,

another street side.

Again this blowing,

wistful wind.

With this cold wind,

there comes the shadow,

to overcome

my shadow still.

By now I know

this lonely shadow

is part of me

in dreams and out.

Sometimes we talk,

sometimes we whisper,

about the past

we both can't change.

“The memories are worse 

than bullets.”

I tell her slowly

how I feel.

And she agrees... And then, 
when living, she tells me

“ The loneliness

can kill you too.”

Life's Universal Wisdom

Did I misread

the life’s universal wisdom

somebody motley painted

on the concrete, wet, cracked wall?

Could I have spent

my life into a journey, 

following a prophet

who always was all wrong?

Sometimes,

when the rain is pouring,

I’m looking for an omen

in the hollow, weightless night.

Sometimes, 

when I am looking for a purpose,

the purpose’s looking

at me from behind.

And sometimes,

when everything has no meaning,

the shadows whisper

of the meaning of the life and of death.

Continuum

Walking slowly

down the hill –

the day is ready

for departure.

The empty street

that meets the beech,

is softly telling me

it’s story.

The sun is batting

now alone,

the people left

the beech already.

Will it tomorrow, when it’s born,

have memories

of the today

or visions of tomorrow?

Or is the memory

of this perfect day 
will be like words into the sand

that jealous ocean quickly swallows?

Eternal Beauty

                                                  (For Narcissus)

Narcissus came every morning

to a little, quiet lake.

Marveling his own beauty  

he was letting hours to pass by.

The gods got jealous and offended.

“Such beauty isn’t for this world”.

”He doesn’t pray and barely remembers

who gave to him this godly gift.”

“I’m absolutely gorgeous!”

one morning Narcissus yelled out.

His voice was still vibrating,

when he was drowning in the lake.

The gods had named,

as a reminder, a pretty flower after him.

And Narcissus is every flower

that never looks towards the gods.

“Narcissus, were art thou

dear Narcissus?”

the little lake was mourning

every day.

“You used to see him every morning”,

the sun once whispered to the lake.

“Was he so beautiful, so perfect,

as everyone was used to say?”

“Well, I haven’t really noticed”

the lake responded to the sun.

“Into his eyes - reflected,

I used to see how beautiful I am.” 

Delicate Disbalance

Where is that little path

that’s frivolously swinging

in the mountain in the dawn?

I can’t find it anymore.

Where are the bird songs

invocating memories

of time with no sins?

I can hear them no more.

Where the sun go?

From out the shadows

is the only light

that’s radiating.

From under a blanket of a cloud 
that is my time now

I neither sleep

nor I am awake.

Flamenco Tormento

Clap, clap, clap,

clap, clap, clap

palms clapping sharp,

shredding the night’s fabric.

Lash! Yellow light flash,

a guitar first burst.

The accords wild, loud –

rough, primal and violent.

Flash! The night’s first dance –

A woman’s mad trance.

A crimson gown long –

Flying in wild fire.

Her legs fly high,

her hands clap sharp.

The music’s her fight,

her torment, her life and her lover.

Spell On You

All the bad you wish

to my beloved and to me –

let it come back to you

three times by three.

All the bad you wish

to my beloved and to me –

by the law of the nine

you will get them three times by three.

All the bad you wish

to my beloved and to me –

now is with you!

So mot it be!

Mirage

Moaning, dancing 
in the desert, 
ceaseless winds
caress the burning sands.

Somewhere,
near the horizon 
thunder's rattling
heavy skies.

Lonely wolf 
is gloomily howling,
wasted time is 
passing by.

Nightmares,
dreamscapes  
are colliding,
without direction
in the sky.

I've closed my eyes
one winter morning
to fall asleep 
and never to come back.

Wandering forever
in the desert - 
dissolving slowly 
into a mirage.

Griefless

The words fall weak,

can’t grasp the sorrow,

they let me down -

in the abyss.

The visions thick

of past transgressions

communicate

with me instead.

In need of grief,

with tarnished feelings,

no word of mourning

comes to me.

I’ve lost my tears,

the well is empty,

I see the stars

from down below.

The spring is gone,

the summer’s over,

the autumn’s wrinkled face

won’t smile.  

And flooding up

behind my eyelids

the dew of past

won’t say goodbye. 

Words that bite

When your words
are your sole possessions
and even they turn into wolves
and bite into your very soul,


seize them in the bitter,
snowy morning -
make a sleigh
and turn them into your sleigh.


Then make a whip
and lash these wolfs
and make them labour -
to pull your sleigh and you your pain and your soul.


Force your words
and make them bitter
as bitter as your days 
as cold as your heart.


You work then hard
and pull together - 
you, your bitter words
and your wounded soul.


Survive today and live tomorrow, 
you own your words,
you words own you - 
your words are you.

Paradox... Is it?

Memories

like clouds of hatred,

pregnant, heavy

with a storm.

Life

can be a cruel prankster,

smiling bully,

petty thief.

Hurting

every single morning

tears slowly

welling up.

Time

is not a mercy healer -

sanity is 

but a choice.

Whispers,

words from cryptic verses,

spell the future

of the world.

Is the life’s

entire structure

built with blocks

of paradox?

Shooting A Dream

(To V. Lad)

So many choices  

yet uneasy is to decide on only one;

I have a dream

I am still not yet ready to shoot down.

Into my dream I fall asleep

and see the universal wisdom,

before I weak up…

I fall asleep again into my dream.

What is the point to see the wisdom…

If the concept is unconscious  

when one looks up

or one looks down below?

How one decides what’s true

not merely reflection,

when hell will end

and when the life will finally begin?

If dream

was even the inception,

the truth about the world –

another lie…  

Is it so simple? Or is it complicated?

Gun down your dream!

Don’t let your dream

to shoot you in the back...

Soul longevity

How many demons one can live with

and survive them, and have the power 

and the will to stay alive?

Pick up the pieces of one’s soul and

put them back together,

put on one’s clothes

and walk again into the dawn.

Pretend there has been  

never nothing broken

in one’s entire miserable life…

How many patches

souls could bear to be sewed,

before the broken pieces

are so many and so small,

that one more breakage

will be finally sufficient,  

for one’s poor soul 

to finally dissolve?

Just a bad dream (Australian Inferno)

An awful dream,

distorted vision,

I see destruction

and despair.

Like cracked, dry lips

the ground grey, broken

an oozing lava down below.

The trees, the grass,

all living creatures,

reduced to ash

by heat from hell.

I’m running wild,

inhaling fire,

the biting smoke

is gulping off my lungs.

The deadly droughts,

the forest fires…

We ate the world –

the world will slowly eat us all.

It was a dream -

just horror story…

where the earth

eats me alive.

The Second Prayer

Now you count to ten,

inhaling, exhaling.

Now close your eyes,

dissolving your thoughts.

Let the breaths

slowly smooth your tension –

mute the mutter of the

Wild Wired World.

See your eyes

in the dark cold reflection,

find the place

where your memories lie.

Feel the pulse

relaxing your body,

let the universe

inside your space.

Feel the night,

let it be your shepherd,

tomorrow to face

the next of your days.

Count to ten,

inhaling, exhaling,

nothing counts –

now you are at peace.

Deliverance

To L.

I saw you in dreams,

in wild fiction stories.

Your bright, pretty eyes,

and sweet dimpled smile.

When you have arrived,

after years of waiting,

the first time I saw you,

your beautiful face…

First, I have smiled,

then I have kissed you,

then, I’ll confess,

I even have cried.

Because, after all,

you’ve just been delivered.

You are my baby –

my life’s now complete.